the last slice

you are not
alone
but sometimes
you feel
alone.
like the last
piece of
bread left
in the plastic
bag
with no friend
to lie down
with between
a bed of
ham and cheese.
no lettuce
to cool
your nerves as
you both
talk about past
lives,
what could
have been, what
will be.
even fed to
the ducks
would be more
welcome
than this hot
sticky
bag, waiting
for a hand
to pull you free.